


Flamethrower

by Devious_Grayson



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Biting, Dancing, Daryl riding Rick like it's a rodeo competition, Did i forget to mention, Drunk Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Kissing, Light BDSM, Lust at First Sight, M/M, PWP, Rough Sex, Scratching, Sexual Tension, in case you wondered, meeting in a club AU, the title is a very bad innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 06:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devious_Grayson/pseuds/Devious_Grayson
Summary: Daryl just wanted to leave the club. Then, meeting those gorgeous blue eyes, he didn't regret staying a little longer...





	Flamethrower

**Author's Note:**

> Who wants sexy fluff? I know you do want sexy fluff. Enjoy your sexy fluff, with the compliments of the chef. 
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed your sexy fluff! ;-)

Daryl didn’t like parties. He hated the music, didn’t want to be touched, the booze tasted like cleaning products, and his brother was drunk. His brother, louder and bigger and drunker than anybody else, half-passed out and half-pissed off, in the middle of the dancefloor. How could a man so ugly and disgustingly sweaty attract so many women? Dealing drugs could have that kind of advantage, Daryl thought bitterly. His beer tasted like water on his tongue, and even the fiery tang of alcohol on the back of his throat didn’t make him giddier. 

They were supposed to strike a deal with some of Merle’s shady acquaintances. Judging by the way his brother’s forehead had found its way to the guy’s nose, effectively breaking it, there was no reason to stay anymore. None other, at least, than the big redneck’s fondness for proximity and cheap beer. At least, that’s one of the rare thing their family could manage to do well: brewing beer that didn’t taste like sparkling piss. And it was probably their only legal activity, too. They should consider selling it to this club. 

A woman patted his back, and Daryl was ready to send her away when he saw that she, like him, didn’t belong in the club. Short, greyish hair, kind blue eyes and no makeup at all. She asked him (had to scream above Beyonce, actually) if he had seen her husband. He felt sorry for that poor housewife, and offered her a drink for her endeavour. When he came back before she could refuse the cocktail, she had disappeared. Probably found her husband.

Daryl sat down at the bar, cringing at the idea that he would have to root out his smelly, sweaty, intoxicated brother from the crowd if he didn’t want him to end up fighting everyone, again. Never having set a single toe in a church, he raised his glass to big G. in hopes that this inexperienced but sincere prayer for a better night would be heard. Then he shook his head in disbelief. As if anyone could help Daryl “Fucking Mess Will Die Alone” Dixon. Downing the rest of his shitty beer, he considered also downing the mojito he had gotten for the woman earlier. In the current situation, rhum didn’t seem like a bad solution at all.

Then he saw them. “Fuck, that’s fucking blue,” he thought immediately. Maybe that much booze hadn’t been a good idea, after all. Or maybe it was, because he didn’t care about the club anymore. Most people look good under flashing neon lights, hence a lot of one-night stands disasters. But this guy looked more than good. There was something about the way he danced awkwardly, off rhythm, and yet he seemed like he belonged there. Or perhaps Daryl liked his dance because it gave him a VIP view of the guy’s ass. Probably. Definitely.

The mojito was heavily charged in rhum, and though it was sweeter than anything he was used to, it seemed like a comforting flame burned down his torso, leaving a trail of courage there. Merle seemed occupied, and the dude was so close Daryl could just extend his arm and brush his shoulder. A thrill of anticipation ran down his spine. If his brother ever found out he would be screwed, possibly literally, but at the same time the forbidden part of what he was about to do made it all the more exciting. 

The song changed to one of the few Lady Gaga songs Daryl liked. The guy seemed to enjoy himself, too. Arousal rippling through Daryl’s chest, throat, thighs and other obvious parts, he found himself up and much closer to Mr. Blue than he would have ever tolerated being sober. He didn’t feel the small shivers of disgust he felt around other people with this guy. Desire (and one too many glasses) made his head light. He started dancing. 

He was facing the guy’s muscled, perfect back and fuck if he didn’t feel like the tiny void between them was a raging forest fire. He wanted to touch him, press his lips to his neck and bite his mark there. He wanted his hands on his hips, and his cock in his ass. He wanted to kiss that man until no other drink could ever feel so intoxicating. He wanted to run his hands in those perfect curls. 

His throat felt like it was collapsing in itself to block his heart from escaping when someone accidentally pushed Mr. Blue right in his arms. Fuck, pressed like this he must’ve felt Daryl’s erection. He started to panic. Never intended to go that far. Oh fuck, he was going to get punched in the face and then Merle would beat his sorry ass too. He would’ve deserved it. Daryl felt dirty like a big pile of dog shit in the shop window of a jeweler. 

He was ready to run away and realize his life dream of never seeing civilization again when he heard a chuckle. Or rather, he felt the friction of their chests increase and nearly died of spontaneous combustion. But it wasn’t a mean laugh, or even a nervous one. And Mr. Blue’s back was still pressed against him, which was way too long for being more than accidental at that point. Especially with the way he looked at Daryl from the corner of his eyes. 

“Don’t mind if I stay there a bit? You’re too damn comfortable man,” Blue said, sounding less intoxicated than he should have. 

“Uh,” was the redneck’s eloquent answer. The guy chuckled once more, and Daryl swore he did it on purpose because there was no way his pants would be spared from a third time. Hell, the guy’s smile could make him come like a teenager if he kept beaming at him like he did. Realizing he hadn’t answered, he simply nodded. Blue smiled once again and leaned even more against him. 

They weren’t dancing, not really, but Daryl felt restless so he started to undulate slowly against the other guy. If he was beat up for it after all, at least he would die without regrets. What he didn’t expect was Blue seizing his hands and boldly put them on his own waist. Did Daryl mention he was going to faint? He was definitely going to faint. From “blood loss”. 

“I’m Rick,” Blue smiled, turning his head enough so that their cheek were pressed and his lips brushing Daryl’s ear. Now, nobody had ever put their lips there (except that one time Merle thought it was funny to try to make him kiss a frog, but that’s another story), but as the hunter discovered there was probably a nerve there that went straight to his dick. 

Rick turned around so that he faced his dancing partner, that bewitching smile of his way too close to Daryl’s face. Somehow there were hands loosely wrapped around his neck, while his own fingers explored hips worth founding a religion about. He was actually surprised there was no heavenly detonation when their lips first brushed. 

Rick’s tongue was hot in his mouth, as hot as his body pressed against his. The slight stubble dusting Rick’s cheeks scratched in the most arousing way, and the feeling of his curious fingers on Daryl’s abdomen indescribable. He could feel Rick’s phone in his pocket, but there was definitely a hard erection grinding against his so hard it could almost produce sparks. 

Daryl didn’t remember much of how he came to have his back pressed against a bed, but he couldn’t complain as Rick’s skillful tongue slid against his length in a way that tore repressed moans out of his throat. Kinkier than he looked, the other man had also tied his hands to the headboard. Each tug provoked the slightest pain in his arms that mixed oh so wonderfully with the intensity of his pleasure.

Now, it wasn’t like Daryl was a virgin. But it certainly was the first time he had been with anyone that good in bed. Maybe his personal kink was the tenderness, the genuine fondness of Rick’s ministrations. He pushed away the useless hope that this could be a regular thing. It wouldn’t. It never did.

The extremely loud moan, almost a scream, that escaped his lips as he went in Rick’s amazing mouth must’ve woken up the whole block. He didn’t care. Eyes closed, breath haggard, he sensed Rick sitting next to him but seeming to wait for something. 

“Kiss me,” he breathed. There was that heartwarming chuckle once again and warm lips found his own. Trying to reach out to him, he tugged a bit too hard and swore out of reflex. The other man kissed his temple and Daryl swore he melted, before untying him. None of them expected the hug that followed, least of all Daryl. 

“I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll see stars,” he murmured.

“Looking into your eyes already make me see stars,” slurred Rick, laughing softly at the cheesiness of his own words.

“Smooth,” commented Daryl, unable to fight the slightest grin that crossed his lips. True to his word, those lips pressed against the other’s tender throat and pressed light kisses that soon turned into animalistic bites. Not enough to draw blood, but certainly enough to leave Rick pretty memories of that night. The vibration of his moans against Daryl’s cheek confirmed the memories would, indeed, be very good.

His hands parted Rick’s legs like they were created for that sole purpose. One found it’s way around the base of Rick’s erection, and the other managed to open the bottle of lube they had placed on the nightstand earlier. However, that asked too much coordination of Daryl’s alcoholized mind, who accidentally bit Rick way too hard. He froze as he heard a sharp ‘ouch’.

“I’m sorry… are you okay?” he asked, trying to put as much distance between them as he could without looking like he was gonna bolt out of the small apartment (which he briefly considered doing). 

“Yeah, it’s okay, don’t worry,” answered the other, rubbing his neck but not looking like he was going to kick him out. “Just mind the teeth, tiger. They’re sharp.”

Rick looked at him with a slightly confused expression when Daryl didn’t move back to him. “Hey, I said it’s okay. You didn’t really hurt me, I was just surprised. I still want you,” he said, extending a hand. Daryl hesitated before putting his palm on Rick’s. Sure he had been hurt accidentally during sex before, those things happen when you do it in a dirty stall or in your basement because it’s the only soundproof part of the house. But he had never really cared before. As his heart jumped in his chest, he realized he did care, in Rick’s case. 

Soon his lips found Rick’s and his hands picked up where they left. It felt different though, slower, more careful. Sensual in a way he wasn’t used to. For once he felt no shame, no remorse, no bile threatening to dissolve his throat. It felt good. And for once he actually remembered the name of the moaning mess in his arms.

The cold feeling of his own lube-coated fingers against his tender hole was familiar enough not to make him shiver, which was probably why Rick didn’t notice what he was doing immediately. When he did, however, witness the wide pants of his partner, the way his muscular chest was rising and collapsing quickly, his gorgeous eyes bulged widely. The kiss that followed was wilder, rougher. Daryl could feel the force of Rick’s erection pushing against his belly, smearing hot precome on his skin. And what a sight it was, too.

Rick’s lithe, toned body was covered in the finest shine of sweat, in a way that was hotter than he could have ever imagined. His lips, red from their kisses, were slightly parted and Daryl couldn’t look away. His hair tousled, his gorgeous eyes barely open but dark with desire, the way his voice would echo in the small room and the roughness of his hands on Daryl nearly made him come on the spot. It should be illegal to be this hot.

Ripping open a condom with his teeth, Daryl handed it to Rick and slid a fourth finger in, just in case. When they were ready, he slowly lowered himself on Rick, earning one of the loudest moans he’s ever heard from his partner. Not as loud as the one he was gifted with when he began to move, though. Daryl rarely was on top, but he’ll be damned if his rodeo skills didn’t compensate. The hard pressure of Rick’s thighs, unconsciously pushing his own to open even more, felt like his blood was on fire. 

He never wanted it to end, and at the same time he felt more and more frustrated as he felt his orgasm building way too slowly. From the way Rick’s back arched, trying to meet his rhythm but failing completely, he was close, too. Then he accidentally hit that special spot and Daryl came, hard. A few well-mastered moves from his devious hips and Rick followed him, his orgasm so powerful he held his breath entirely. They collapsed on the bed shortly after than, panting and lightheaded.

The last thing Daryl registered before falling asleep was Rick’s arm covering his torso and his forehead against his shoulder. 

When Rick woke up, shortly after noon, he was alone. Not that he expected the other man to stay, didn’t seem like the type who would, but he had hoped. He felt silly for a while. His head throbbed, and the sickness he felt was most certainly due to one too many margaritas. Usually he didn’t have one-night stands, but the instant connection he felt the other night couldn’t have been ignored. He had desired that man as soon as he had laid eyes on him. When he “accidentally” fell against him, well, he found out he wasn’t the only one who felt the attraction.

After taking a shower, grunting at his sore muscles and burning scratches, he noticed the enormous hickeys on his neck. Nothing he could hide easily at work, especially not from Shane. With the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hair picked up in random directions and the almost claw marks on his back, it looked like he had been mauled by a werewolf. Maybe he had. He only wished the other man could’ve at least told him his name. If he did, Rick didn’t remember hearing it.

He was late for work, a bit depressed by his morning after loneliness. Not even pancakes could help in the current situation, but he still went to the kitchen. A plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon was waiting for him, a small note next to it. His heart skipped a bit in his chest.

“Hey,” read the note. “Sorry I had to leave early, gotta go to work. Left you food if you’re hungry. If you want, my number is on the back. If you don’t just ignore it. - Daryl.”

No star could’ve been brighter than the smile on Rick’s face. He picked his phone.


End file.
